Supergrass

Leant against the exterior of a trendy West End pub, mere moments from the busy Tottenham Court Road intersection, three distinctly scruffy and bohemian individuals conspicuously hunch over their cigarettes. One wears a bright, striped blazer, one has long matted hair, the third’s hirsute sideburns protrude from beneath his off-kilter trilby. Together, they spell one thing and one thing only: rock n’ freaking roll.

Brothers Gaz and Rob Coombes are taking a short break with their drummer, Danny Goffey. They’re preparing for the day’s final interviews and look as though the intermission is well deserved. Back inside, they form into pairs and commence the next round of interrogation. Danny and Rob join me upstairs to chat about their rock n’ roll comeback, Diamond Hoo Ha Men, whilst Gaz and bassist, Mick Quinn - who wasn’t outside due to immobility issues, a result of the bizarre sleepwalking accident that took place in September of last year - are forced to spend half an hour with Waitrose Food magazine (!). How rock and roll can you get?

It’s hard not to love Supergrass. Without them, there’d be no Kaiser Chiefs, no Arctic Monkeys, no Fratellis. The piercing grunt of thumping guitars is prevalent throughout the new album and, between swigs of thirst-quenching bottled water, Goffey admits that they “wanted to do something that upped the RPM slightly, a bit more in-your-face. A little bit stompier”. This latter statement rings especially true because Diamond…rolls back the years with its upbeat, bouncy flavour, rising high above the pout of glamour. “There’s always been a little bit of that in us” comes Goffey’s timid declaration. Although attempting to side-step the issue of glam, he still believes the album’s eponymous title track to be “probably the most glammy one on there”.

The decision to derive most of the album’s content from strutting hedonism was not a conscious one. Coombes sees that aspect as something inherent and totally unplanned. “I don’t know if ‘conscious’ is the right word for it because it makes us sound like we’re contrived. I don’t think we do music that’s contrived” he theorises in his quieter, more studied fashion. “I think the music finds its own way”.

Diamond Hoo Ha Men is glaringly different from the band’s previous album – 2005’s moodier Road To Rouen – yet displays a strong nostalgic attachment to their earlier work. It’s endearing use of balance is what makes it so special, believes Goffey. “Some stuff is quite positive, some stuff is quite funny and then some stuff is a bit deeper and reflecting of the life that has happened to us over the last few years”. Seizing this opportunity to highlight his own hilarity, he then turns into a cul-de-sac of clichés involving “optimistic personas” and “we’re all going to die, so we might as well have a good laugh doing it”. The laugh eventually arrives and is succinctly followed by Coombes’ expertly timed, “I think Danny has put it very eloquently”, uttered with wry grin. There’s evidence here that the band probably enjoyed themselves a fair amount whilst making this record.

Much of the work on Diamond… was completed prior to entering the studio in an effort to economise on their sanity. The actual recording at Berlin’s Hansa studio was little more than three weeks in length. “It’s definitely more enjoyable” says Goffey, “it’s a great feeling bashing songs out in a day. It can get a bit labourious if you know in the back of your head that a song is half finished”. Like so many other bands these days, Supergrass displayed the confidence to record the whole piece quickly and without leaving any material unused. Preserving the latent energy of the live performance was imperitive in keeping the spirit of the album intact. “We wanted to catch the moment” utters Coombes, “we didn’t want it to drag on”.

The Diamond process was carefully guarded by seasoned producer, Nick Launay, who cast his knowing eye over the proceedings. With near-rehearsed perfection, Goffey’s fawning description of Launay is almost worthy of a gold star. “He is like an art teacher that you really liked at school. He is one of the only producers we’ve worked with that we haven’t doubted. He’s sort of one of us really, just a bit older”. In the past, the band have mainly self-produced yet, for this project, saw great merit in bringing in external expertise. Coombes delivers a poignant dispatch that summarises this notion of mutual respect. “Sometimes a producer can see something when he’s not within the music, when he’s not involved with it. That’s when a producer works best. When we’re all so wrapped up in a piece we don’t see something that can be seen so differently”.

Launay’s previous notoriety blossomed with bands like Arcade Fire, Talking Heads and Nick Cave. As such, he didn’t have any problems extracting exactly what he needed from Supergrass. “He just wanted us to be ourselves” insists Goffey, continuing, “I think he liked our energy and the vibrant stuff we’d done in the past and wanted to get that down rather than our slightly slower, folkie side”. He’s not wrong. Diamond’s rampant rollercoaster ride is rockier than a geologist’s knapsack and its furiously infectious hooks will convert anyone who isn’t already a Supergrass fan.

From ‘Return Of’’s Strokes-riffology to the Hammond organ funk of ‘Rough Knuckles’, the band maintain the dancing youthfulness that they were originally known for. Goffey’s promise is “we’re going to play all the songs on the album when we play live”. He even goes so far as to brag, “there’s not one song that I’m worried about playing. We wanted something that was a little bit harder and exciting to play live”.

The new material has already had a few outings, including a handful of intimate gigs with just Gaz Coombes and Goffey bastardising the album. “It was more of a White Stripes sort of thing” Goffey admits “but we’ve done a few gigs with Rob and Gaz’s younger brother, Charlie, playing the keyboard bass, which were great. The new stuff sounded better than most of the other stuff we usually do”.

Despite the promises of playing just the new material, fans will probably expect the band to deliver the goods they’re accustomed to. With a bounty of tuneage that exceeds over 100 tracks, how do the cheekie chappies from Oxford decide which songs to play? Their propensity toward humour is demonstrated in Coombes’ playful suggestion. “We have a hat with all the names of our songs in it. Honest, that’s how it works. Well, that’s what they told me”. Goffey then provides a more sober answer. “No, it’s the ones that Gaz can still sing. It’s the ones that Gaz can get to the high notes in. Surprisingly, there are still a few old songs we wont play. We cant really get away with playing “Alright’ any more because it’s so about being a 14 year old kid and it would just be silly to sing it”. Fear not though, Supergrass fans, because “stuff like ‘Caught By The Fuzz’, ‘Strange Ones’ and ‘Richard III’ are just really powerful songs. People get off on it”.

Leaving Coombes and Goffey in a pile of their own steaming chirpiness, I wander outside to find Gaz Coombes smoking, alone, in the exact same spot as before. “Were they good, well-behaved boys?” he asks, almost with a hint of jealously. The Waitrose Food magazine interview must’ve been tough. His cigarette has been joined by a friend, a bottle of medicinal beer. Perhaps it was rock n freaking roll after all?